Category Archives: Uncategorized

Failing Religion

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It is now school holidays in Turkey which means that Daughter has survived her first term in the Turkish village school.  She has survived classes where no one speaks her language.  She has navigated the social minefields of school life and made friends with kids and teachers alike.  She has gotten in trouble for talking in class, picked a fight to protect a friend and even got called into the principal’s office on one occasion.  She has also received her first Ilkogretim Orgenci Karnesi.  Her Elementary Student Report Card.

How did Daughter do?

You have probably already guessed that I am not only of those mother’s who brag about how wonderful and talented and amazing their child is.  I would rather call a spade a spade.  I will merely say that for a kid who four months ago was coasting along in a suburban school in Sydney she did pretty well.  She got a Certificate for passing the term (which is a good thing apparently).  She received 4’s and 5’s for most subjects (highest is a 5).  She got a 4 in Turkce which is pretty good considering it is not her first language.  The only subject she got a “2” in is Din Kulturu ve anlak bilgisi also known as “Religion”.

Long ago I made the decision to allow Daughter to choose her own religion when she was old enough to make an informed determination.  It is not to me as the parent to force something as important as spirituality on my child.  I always gave her the information when requested.  I took her to Sunday school classes at our local church, arranged for her to meet other Muslim families in our area and even enrolled her in Buddhism classes at Bondi.  We often attended the Hari Krishna Centre at North Sydney (best vegetarian samosa’s around) and I even explained the religion of Jedism (alright so perhaps I made her watch Star Wars with me).  I gave her the tools to learn about spirituality in her own way – and she has.  This is why a double lesson of Din must send her closer to the edge and also explains why she hates her Friday’s so much.

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I have, however, made one suggestion to her –

“Please do not argue with the Din Ogretmeni (Religion Teacher) again about Islam as this causes him to go red in the face and gesticulate in a manner that made your father laugh and made me flinch.  It also means that we do not need to make another trip up to the Principal’s Office on your behalf.  Thank you.”

Birthday Lunch

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Daughter took me out for my belated birthday lunch today.  We left the Village behind us, passed by the historical (and chaotic) Carsi and travelled west to the more European inspired area of Mersin for lunch at the new Marina.

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Arriving at the Marina is akin to arriving back in Sydney and going for a day at Darling Harbour.  Lots of sunshine, tourists, designer shops and European-styled restaurants.  Daughter picked a great looking restaurant that had good old fashioned burgers and, although it was empty when we arrived, 20 minutes into our lunch we were surrounded by a bus load of German tourists who appeared to be drinking their way around Turkey.  They were travelling from Alanya and were expecting to continue their historical tour of Turkey by visiting Tarsus this afternoon.  Honestly I cannot imagine how they will fare wandering around all the historical sites that Tarsus has to offer – I should watch the Haber (news) this evening to see if there was a group of German tourists arrested for disturbing the peace.  They were a very rowdy bunch but Daughter thought they were excellent value and befriended them.  She was having an awesome time.  She taught them some Turkish swear words and they reciprocated by teaching her some not so appropriate German.  It’s great to have a multi-lingual child!

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After lunch we spent time in the sunshine just wandering along the waterfront.  It was such a lovely afternoon – we stopped for cay at a tea house, Daughter befriended some puppies (and tried to convince me to take one home) and we brought freshly roasted chestnuts to nibble on while watching old men fishing from the wharf.  As the sun began to set on my birthday day some ominous looking clouds appeared on the horizon.  Rain?  Nah!  But we better find a dolmus just in case.

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Incidentally it has only rained four times in Mersin since September.  That’s over 120 days of sunshine.  I get quite excited when I see the clouds and the prospect of rain but it just never eventuates.  I know that Australia is sweltering in 50 degree heat and America is suffering with their “polar vortex” but I must say that winter in Mersin is extremely pleasant.  So lucky!

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Everybody Needs Good Neighbours – Part Deux

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So to familiarise yourself with my continuing drama with the neighbour have a look at Part One here for a bit of the background.  Incidentally Part One got me my biggest number of “stat hits” so here’s hoping that Part Deux breaks a new record.

When I look back on my previous homes I realise just how lucky I have been with my neighbours.  As a child we had great neighbours on both sides (although the English couple on our left used to swim in their pool quite naked so I was never allowed to have my curtains open).  At North Sydney I had a lovely old duck who always stuck her nose into everybody’s business but that was alright as she Mrs Mangel’d the crap out of the body corporate and the block always looked great.  When I moved to the ‘burbs I possibly had the nicest neighbour you could hope for and I miss her chats over the fence very much.

Now we are in Karaduvar and as you have already read the cracks showed pretty early with one of my neighbours.

When we built this property we built with the local belediye (Council) approval.  Now admittedly we built right up to the boundary of the property however I will point out again with the belediye and, I would assume, my brother in law’s knowledge and approval being the owner of the adjoining land. Last week I woke to find preparatory building work taking place on the land next door.  I looked out my window to see that they were building right up to the boundary as well.  Again I acknowledge that with the appropriate approvals they can do whatever they like but it was at this point that I also realised that they are building where my windows are so basically when they finish their first floor my window will look out to a brick wall.  What type of holy fucking hell is that bullshit? 

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I know that there is always a drama with a large family and I understand that there is jealousy, gossip and misunderstanding by others as to who has what and who does this and that but gee whiz you have large block of land build your shit somewhere else.  Does the belediye know about their intention to build a wall where my window is?  Apparently so.  In my previous life back in Australia I worked in a law firm specialising in development approvals and Council disputes.  Would my boss have a field day with this shit?  Yes indeed but of course we are not in Australia – the land of milk and normalcy.  Looking back I should have realised something was afoot as they did not finish painting on the western side of our house.  Did The Turk know?  He did but chose to not say anything as he knew it would upset me.  Really?  So instead I find out when the concreter arrives and starts pouring?  Yes that is a much better idea.  Also if you knew they were going to build right up to our boundary as well why did you not reconfigure our house during construction so there were no windows on the western wall?  Dumb arse! 

At the moment there is literally steam pouring out of my ears as I watch the concreters work below my window.  I have a few choice words that I want to say but frankly I just cannot be bothered.  These people have become so unimportant to me that bricking up the window will probably make my life better as I will not need to look out at them.  They can continue to alienate themselves from my family and from their own – it is their loss more than ours.

I am going to make a cup of tea and enjoy my window right now as it seems I will only have it for a few more weeks before I can pleasantly look towards a brick wall.  How lovely.

Feeling Inspiration

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We lost the internet for a couple of days – 4 days to be precise.  It amazes me how much time I waste sitting on my laptop aimlessly clicking on pages.  It numbs the mind.  It stops you for achieving what you intended to do so for the past few days I have actually achieved quite a lot.

I have been in a bit of a bubble since I have arrived here – it has been more than three months.  Did you know that?  Yep we have been here on the other side of the world on the crazy train for over three months now.  Things are different.  It is not the same.  New home.  New language.  New food.  New faces.  New life. 

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Daughter has started a new school, The Turk is finding it difficult to settle and I am the paste that holds this family together.  But yes three months of living in this rural village in Turkey.

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I have not made friends.  I have family – yes.  I have social interaction.  There is my sister in law Songul who is possibly the sweetest person you could ever meet.  I have laughed with her on a good day and have cried with her on a bad one.  I have a mother in law that is kind and generous – not everyone is as lucky as I am.  There is my brother in law Umit who has helped me wade through the bureaucracy that is the Turkish Government and helped me obtain my Yabancilara Mahsus Ikamet Tezkeresi (Residence Permit for Foreigners).  There are people in the village that always say hello or Merhaba and ask me in for cay but friends?  Well not really.  So last week I reached out to a couple of ladies who live in Mersin and are in a similar situation as I am. 

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A plan was hatched.  A date of set and a destination was decided upon.  Saturday morning came and I left the house quite early, firstly to ensure that I arrived at the destination (Starbucks) on time but also so I could do a little sneaky Christmas shopping on the side.  I never drink coffee, never have, but Starbucks is known the world over so where better a place to meet people – and meet people I did.  It was with pleasure and a lot of joy that I met Alannah and Melis.  Alannah is from Northern Ireland and works as an English teacher and Melis is a beautiful German lady (of Turkish decent) who is married to a local fellow.  We fell into conversation easy – there was no lull which I think showed the genuine friendship that was being formed.  Time flew quickly and then it was late afternoon – I could not miss my dolmuş (shared taxi) home. 

After being revitalised by these ladies (how I have missed having a chat) I rushed off to catch my first dolmuş.  One of the things I love about Turkey is the dolmuş.  Dolmuş means “apparently stuffed” and most of the time they are.  You climb aboard and hang on for the ride.  In Mersin the dolmuş all have a set route and as long as you are on the route you can wave them down as they pass.  No walking to the closest bus stop for us here just put out your hand and they will come.  The driving is usually excellent, well as long as you do not mind that your driver is smoking, or talking on his mobile, yelling at a customer, counting out change, swerving recklessly though traffic, dodging people on the road or generally disobeying every traffic road rule known to man.  A marvellous way to get around. 

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As I arrived in Atas it was quite clear that I was going to have to walk home as this small industrial area (where I connect to a dolmuş to Karaduvar) was quiet.  All the businesses were closed and there was not a soul to be seen after all it was cold, very foggy and in the dark Atas is a little bit intimidating.  I had started trudging down the dark street, slightly nervous, when I realised that I was being followed.  Crap!  Danger!  I walk a little faster (difficult in the boots I was wearing).  The footsteps behind me kept pace.  Buggar.  I glanced over my shoulder but it was too dark and too foggy to make out a figure.  Where is the bloody dolmuş when you need one?  Now I could hear breathing, wait, no.  It is panting.  I stop and spin around to find a large dog sliding to a halt behind me.  The big black dog looked at me quizzically, “Woof.  Why did you stop?  I was enjoying our walk.  Are we not going to your house where you will feed me?” he seemed to ask.  As I am more scared of the kopeks (dogs) than the people I was thankful that a dolmuş came along and I jumped on arriving home only slightly later than anticipated . . . however . . . The Turk had been waiting and was worried (everyone now goes “Awwwww”).  Yes he had stopped a few dolmuş.  He had let his family know I was missing, possibly dead and had his cousins searching the streets for me.  I jumped off the dolmuş oblivious to his concern and saw him standing, waiting for me. 

“Where have you been?”

“With friends.”  I like to be a bit vague, make him worry a bit (not realising that he had sent out the cavalry looking for me).

“It’s late.”

“No probs.  I’m here.”  Realising there was something afoot I asked, “You ok?”

“No,” he yelled, “I’ve been waiting for you.  I was worried.”

Again – awwwwww.

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Anyway back to the lack of internet.  Yes I had no internet for four days and it sucked.  I had no internet.  No electricity on Saturday night or all day Sunday and no telephone until Monday.  I have decided that I could disappear of the face of the earth and no one would know – well not until people realised I had not blogged for a while anyway.

But having no internet meant I did get other things done.  I made soup – oh my most exciting news (how sad do I sound – this should NOT be my most exciting news).  I found butternut pumpkin and made a delicious pumpkin and ginger corba (soup).  The Turk’s family have never had pumpkin soup before so I was inundated with people trialling my concoction.  I think it was good.  Daughter says it was good (although a little peppery).  The Turk’s family made lots of noises and said lots of things.  I am not really sure what they said but I am going with the fact that they thought it was delicious.  Wonderful.  Best corba ever!  Cok guzel!

My other news is that as many of my personal friends know I do love to write.  I have started and discarded many novels over the years.  With no internet, Daughter at school and The Turk going off with his brother to deliver maydanoz (parsley) to the restaurants I was taking my Hurley Dog for a walk and was inspired.  Not JK Rowling, become a billionaire inspired but inspired enough to open the laptop and type.

This is a good thing. 

This is what I want to do.

It has begun.

How Many Turks does it take to change a light bulb?

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Last weekend was The Turk’s birthday.  I am not allowed to say just how old he is however Daughter has been known to him a moruk (geezer) so you make a guess.  I looked around the Wonderful World Wide Web for a few historical snippets relating to his birthdate of 7 December to reference in his birthday card but no one really famous – well no one I knew anyway – was born (or died) on 7 December.  7 December has the ominous distinction of being the day that the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbour – 7 December 1941 – but this was to be a celebratory day and I do not want to bring down his groove.

There was no chance of a lie in for The Turk on his birthday as the electricity had blown (yet again).  I reset the system again and attempted to put on the heater but it blew almost immediately.  At 7 on Saturday morning it was 4 degrees and with no air con or heater . . . well let me just say it was cold.  So I woke The Turk up to complain and for him to let Hurley out (after all it was way too cold for me and I crawled straight back into bed).  He was very proactive about it though and by 8 am he had left the house to have a shave and to go and track down the electrician who installed our wiring.  I went to buy the bread and when I had returned The Turk had arrived back home freshly shaved and with a boy in tow.

“This is the electrician?” Thank goodness he didn’t speak English although I would think the disbelief in my tone would be clear after all the child standing before me could be no more than 18 years of age (I concede he may be an adult but no way he is an electrician).  The “cocuk (child) electrician” had a long conversation with The Turk and explained that the issue is not with the electrical it is with the air conditioning unit.  Can I holler balderdash?

So most of the morning was spent listening firstly to the cocuk electrician explain why there was nothing wrong with the wiring, and the air con people came and told us that it was the electrical system.  Now I may not Benjamin Franklin but it does not take a fool to tell you there is a problem if you are shorting out 10 times a day!  The cocuk electrician left unsatisfied however promised that his elder brother (who I was guessing is the actual electrician) would return in the afternoon.  The Turk’s birthday was definitely turning into a disaster so before any other calamity presented itself Daughter and I grabbed him and took him into Mersin for a celebratory lunch at Cigeri Apo.

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To truly experience a typical Turkish restaurant in Mersin you cannot get any better than Cigeri Apo.  It specialises in meats cooked over the coals and the menu, although very simple, is delicious.  I was pretty unsure about the choices (The Turk mentioned lung at one stage) so I kept it pretty basic with an order of beef kebap and he ordered unknown meat on the skewer.  Within minutes 5 different salads were delivered to our table along with a glass of Ayran for each of us.  Ayran is a Turkish drink of yogurt, salt and water blended into a thick shake.  Although refreshing on a hot day Ayran tastes pretty good any time of year.

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After a wonderful lunch we wandered down to Ataturk Park and hopped on a harbour cruise that was about to leave.  In hindsight this was probably a mistake as it was freezing on the harbour but it was reasonably short and we were rugged up sufficiently well.  Although the cruise did not leave the harbour it gave us views of the dull city skyline, Luna Park and the Free Trade Zone.

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Returning home the cocuk electrician’s brother arrived and he checked the circuits.  Watching the actual electrician with The Turk I started to wonder whether they would ever get to the bottom of the electrical faults.  Hmmmm.  The Turk said to me later on Saturday evening that watching me trying to control my agitation with the electrician was the best birthday present he could have received (well that and Fenerbache winning their futbol match on Saturday night).

All in all a good day for The Turk.

Village Video

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I found this video today on youtube while cruising the web.  Only a couple of minutes long and gives you an idea of the Village which, of course, is our new home.  The teacher at the end of the film is Daughter’s beautiful Turkish teacher Ipek.

And yes my neighbours do still make the bread like that and yes we still buy our domates from the vendor selling his wares from his horse and cart.

Let me know your thoughts.

 

 

Having a Benjamin Button Moment

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“It’s a funny thing about comin’ home. Looks the same, smells the same, feels the same. You’ll realize what’s changed is you.”

Benjamin Button aka Brad Pitt aka My Second Husband

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Sidenote – I know I am referring to movies a lot at the moment.  Not sure why, have not even had time to watch television.  Bear with me.

The Turk seems to be having a Benjamin Button moment right now.  He has banged on about returning to The Village pretty much since arriving in Sydney 11 years ago but I think being home and knowing that this IS now his home is a hurdle that he is having difficulty traversing.

In the past he has visited.  His family have welcomed him with open arms.  His friends have slapped him on the back and drank cay with him at the local tea house or take him to the new club in the city and there are tears and hugs at the airport before he leaves them (yet again) to return to his life in Australia.  There was always the knowledge that he would return again in the future.

As happy as he is to be back with his family and friends he now has an opportunity to take off the rose coloured glasses and really look at where he now calls home and he has been very opinionated about its misgivings.  He can complain about the blackouts that seem to happen daily.  Thank you Benjamin Franklin.  He has complained about the water not being hot enough or the water pressure not being strong enough.  But today was my favourite.  He has had a hankering for Peking Duck.  Yep that’s right.  Peking Duck.

Now I do not want to sound like an unsupportive wife (really?) but come on sunshine – get over it!  He was born in this village (probably next door), he grew up here, went to school, made friends, loved and lost and, well, then he left, didn’t he?  He was conscripted into the army and after his service he went to Bodrum where he played around until he met me.  Holy shit!  He had no idea what he was getting himself into!  Other than fleeting visits he has not lived in this village since he was 18!  I know I am using a lot of exclamation points but this is an exclamation point kind of epiphany!!

Now I cannot help him with the Peking Duck (ewww) but I have an electrician coming today about our constant blackouts.  We have had an electric hot water service connected (how people live on solar hot water in winter is beyond me). The telephone is now operational (finally).  We’ve had satellite TV installed (because the 2000 Turkish channels that we had were apparently not the right ones).  The balcony is still under renovation (but will be finished shortly) and . . . well I am sure there are other problems that will come up but we can tackle each problem when it presents itself.

What an wonderful, sympathetic, kind, generous and hot wife I am (just go with me on this) and apparently when I sing I sound like Madonna.  I know my Second Husband aka Brad Pitt would show his appreciation.

Big Girls Do Cry

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Daughter and I have had a fight.  I can hear her now in her bedroom belting out Simple Minds “Don’t you forget about me” and I just want to go in there and throw her ipod out the window.  At 11 I find her headstrong and on occasion completely out of line.  I wonder what on earth she is going to be like at 15 – which was how old I was when I first saw the movie that made this song famous – The Breakfast Club.  A movie about teenage rebellion and clichés.  It had it all.  How about the freeze frame last scene with Judd Nelson raising his fist to the sky?  “Fuck you!” Oh yeah I loved that movie!

I remember wanting desperately to be just like Molly Ringwald, pretty and popular flirting with the jocks but all the while longing after Bender (Judd Nelson).  Many would say I was probably more like Allison (Ally Sheedy) but deep down I really longed to be Molly’s character Claire. 

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An old friend put some high school photos up on Facebook a little while back which gave me a good laugh but honestly I would not repeat my school years if I could at all escape them.  Lonely in a crowd – that is how I saw myself. 

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When deciding to move to Turkey one of the factors taken into consideration was to remove Daughter from the “First World Dramas” that children seem to go through these days.  Social media, bad behaviour, general bullying – going to school is like navigating through a mine field.  It is not just a school either.  Children are pressured to be the best, the smartest, the fastest, the most beautiful and if they are not the smartest or the fastest or the most beautiful they, of course, take that failure to heart.  Can anyone say Helicopter Parents?  Children do not have time to actualize and understand a social situation before another situation (good or bad) presents itself.  The pressures that children find themselves under must be huge and we learnt the hard way with Daughter.  Two years ago I found a small gap in Daughter’s hair.  It was the size of a 20 cent piece.  Within days so much of her hair had fallen out that we had to consult specialists.  Daughter had been diagnosed with Alopecia Areata no doubt brought on by stresses in her daily life.  Two years on her hair has grown back although her curls have disappeared and her hair is now dead straight.

We recently watched an episode on 60 Minutes Australia which highlighted a young girl who committed suicide due to social pressure and bullying.  Daughter was a little distressed after watching the story and confided in me that since being in Turkey she has not been bullied nor felt the need to be the bully and “it’s been a bit of a relief to be honest Mummy”.  I forget just how much pressure Daughter has been under since moving here.  She had no Turkish to speak of and has had to adjust to not just a new language but also to a new schooling system. She has had to forge new friendships and continue her education all the while speaking this crazy ass language. 

A wonderful friend gave me some advice before we left which was that if Daughter found one good friend at that school she would be set.  And thankfully she has found not just one friend but many. 

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I realise that I should give my kid a break.  Maybe I will make her a hot chocolate (after all its bloody cold enough) and we can muddle through her homework together (I hate the homework) before her Turkish teacher arrives for her afternoon lesson.

It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas

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Looking at my various social media apps I see that Christmas is approaching rapidly.  My friends and acquaintances are starting the Christmas party rounds (my favourite part of Christmas) and are no doubt burning a hole in their credit cards purchasing presents for loved ones.  I am, of course, in a country where Christmas is not celebrated readily and, in fact, will fall on a school day much to Daughter’s horror.

“I am NOT going to school on Christmas Day!” she screeched at The Turk and I.

We both tried to talk to her, to explain the differences in culture and even to explain that her extended family just cannot afford to purchase expensive presents for her and her kin but sometimes you just cannot argue with an 11 year old girl.  To be honest I am a little disappointed with The Turk.  Christmas is an important tradition to both the Daughter and I.  It is a tradition that always brought my small family together and, even though I have moved to his country, I do want a little bit of my traditions to stay with us. 

I spent yesterday on the internet researching the traditions of Turkey at Christmas time.  What can I work with and how can I make this special for Daughter without offending anyone?  Turkey may be a predominantly Muslim country however Christian traditions are well known throughout the country.  What we call a Christmas Tree is known here as a Yilbasi Agaci (New Year Tree) and presents are usually handed over on New Years Eve.  I can definitely work with this tradition.

Noel Baba (Saint Nicholas or as we know him Father Christmas) was a bishop that lived in the 4th Century in a town called Myra in Asia Minor (now Turkey).  His reputation of helping others less fortunate by giving gifts became the basis of Father Christmas and also why we hang stockings.  Another tradition that will ensure that Daughter will have a Christmas (or New Year) to remember.

I did not forget the birth of Jesus Christ either.  There is a Catholic Church in the heart of Mersin.  I passed it a few weeks ago and I made a point of inquiring about Christmas sermons.  Yes, they have them and yes, they are in English!  Another tick on my family traditions (even though we am not Catholic).

When packing up our home in Sydney I ensured that all my Christmas decorations were packed and today being 1 December I went on the search in Mersin for a suitable Christmas tree.  The Turk said it would be doubtful that I would find one but as I walked into The Forum I saw Christmas decorations everywhere!  I was thrilled.  Yes!  No doubt the marketing Gods have been hard at work within Turkey as within minutes we had located not just a tree but all sorts of decorations including fake snow, reindeer and a Santa for the roof.  The Turk reeled me in a little knowing full well that we would never have gone to this extent in Australia but I argued that this is my first Christmas away from my family and friends and I want it to be a special one.  Another argument lost so I merely purchased a small tree and some lights and, adding my already large collection of ornaments this afternoon we erected our tree and I must say it looks pretty darn good.

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Perhaps Christmas may not be in the same tradition as it was in Australia (after all it is usually 30 degrees and we hit the beach after lunch) but maybe we can make a few new traditions, some that she can continue when she has grown up and has her own buggerlugs running around.

Incidentally I have heard more Christmas songs today than I ever heard in Sydney. 

Bad Hair Day?

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You are not the only one.  Everyone has them.  I have had one practically every day since I have arrived here.  But today is not about me.  It is about my Hurley dog. Hurley is a cross bichon / poodle.  Probably not the best designed dog for the Turkish lifestyle.  Regardless he is part of this family and is given a lot of love and affection from not just us but now his extended family here.

Here is a photo of my Hurley dog on any given day.  Looking a little shaggy, a little dishevelled and a little like he has been lost on a deserted island after a plane crashed and was chased by polar bears.  Wait!  Hold on a minute.  That is Hurley from the TV show Lost (which was who he was named after due to the fact that Daughter watches way too much television).  But they do look remarkably similar do they not?

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Before leaving on his journey to Turkey I had Hurley sent to the kuafor for a tidy up – does he not look fantastic!  A doggy day spa in Australia is a pampering for your doggy baby.  He is shampooed, mani/pedi and if you say you want an inch off all over – that is what you get!

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But in Turkey it is obviously a little bit different.

I had asked The Turkey (typo but now that it is written I think it should stay) to take Hurley for a tidy up as he spends his days running around in the mud on the roads and farms and, of course, we are having building work done so there is concrete and dust and, well, he just downright smelled!  So after some telephone calls The Turk and Hurley went to Mezitli (the “fancy” part of Mersin) for his doggy day spa. Should I have gone?  Perhaps.  Will I go next time?  For sure!

Here is my Hurley dog having a really bad hair day in all its glory.

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My beautiful boy has been butchered!  I should mention that it is getting colder as every day goes by and that of an evening it can get downright chilly.  So Hurley has now taken to jumping into bed with us and grabbing the blanket to make his own “nest” to keep warm.

I might need to buy him a jacket.